


New In Town

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Holt Shenanigans, Keith is a Cute Fish Boy, Kosmo is Instagram Famous, M/M, Shiro is New in Town, Strangers to Lovers, Support Group, all the aus, brief mention of apartment fire, but like the fun kind, don’t worry though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: Shiro has exactly two notable relationships in his new city — the absolutely adorable dog he follows on Instagram, and the equally (if not moreso) adorable grocery store employee who works behind the fish counter.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 308
Collections: Sheithlentines 2020





	New In Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DropsOfAutumn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAutumn/gifts).



> Happy Sheithlentines, Kass!! I’m so sorry it’s late, but I hope you enjoy! I had a blast with your prompts — AUs and dogs? What more could a person ask for?!
> 
> As you can see, rather than picking one thing and running with it, I picked _everything_ and smashed them all together! I heard you like AUs, so I put some AUs in your AUs.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it! It was super fun to write!
> 
> Also shoutout to C for making sure this fic makes sense in my time of panic, and who gives no shits about receiving credit but will _take it anyway_.

Shiro wouldn’t say his life is mundane, exactly, but he could probably afford to get out more. It’s been a while since he’s had a reliable group of friends, and though he has plenty of friendly acquaintances, the hard truth of the matter is that his current most developed relationship is with the Instagram account of an internet-famous dog.

It’s a very cute dog, okay?

Plus, it’s not like he doesn’t have friends; he has Sven and Romelle, who he sees for holidays when he flies back to his home town. He has Allura and Lotor, though they’re both so busy and live so far away that he rarely gets to speak to them, much less see them. And he has Adam, he guesses, though it’s still a little weird being friends with The Ex; and besides, he lives on the other side of the country, too.

KosmoTheWolfDog, though— he’s always there, every morning when Shiro wakes up, ready to brighten Shiro’s day one big fluffy oversized doggy picture at a time.

He’s there when Shiro is bored at his desk and desperately needs to summon the motivation to get through the last two hours of work; he’s there at dinner when Shiro is eating alone in front of his TV; and he’s there every night before bed when Shiro’s mild insomnia starts to kick in, when he scrolls endlessly through the hundreds of backlogged pictures of Kosmo until he falls asleep with his phone in his hand.

It’s not like he doesn’t have _any_ friends in his new city, it’s just... well, work acquaintances don’t really count as friends, do they? They fill his daily quota of social interaction and sometimes share funny jokes with him, so he still gets a laugh when he needs one. He’d be willing to go out with them sometime, but in a city like his, most of his coworkers commute in to avoid the astronomical cost of living.

Other than KosmoTheWolfDog, his only notable relationship is with the grumpy-cute fish guy at the supermarket down the street. Shiro visits the supermarket a lot, mostly since it’s within walking distance, but partly because he can shop in the prepared foods department and still pretend he’s being healthy and financially responsible, since technically it’s not fast food or delivery.

The fish guy, whose name tag says Keith, is one of the only workers who seems to actually give a damn about his job. Shiro loves seafood, but he’s never really had much opportunity to learn how to cook it growing up in a landlocked area. When Shiro is feeling ambitious, Keith helps him pick out things that are fresh or particularly well-priced, and sometimes even shares his favorite go-to recipes for Shiro to try out. They’re always easy and require few ingredients, which is helpful for Shiro’s budget and rudimentary cooking skills — but he’s getting better.

Today is one of those days that finds Shiro standing in front of Keith’s counter. He’s not looking for anything in particular, of course; he has no idea what he’s in the mood for aside from something tasty and relatively healthy.

He’s admiring the pre-made crab-stuffed salmon roulades (delicious, but not in the budget) when Keith appears.

“Oh, hey,” Keith greets, his face lighting up with a small smile that Shiro rarely sees when he’s talking to other customers. He tries not to think much of it, but it _does_ help with his self-esteem.

“Hey,” Shiro says. “Anything good today?”

Keith frowns a little at the selection, like it’s the food’s fault that he’s about to give bad news.

“Not really. The catching wasn’t great this morning.”

Shiro tilts his head in question. He’s never heard a remark like that before.

“What do you mean?”

Keith looks back up at him, brow still furrowed, but relaxes once he comes out of whatever thought he was having.

“Oh, I work as a fisherman in the mornings, too. It’s how I always know which fish are the freshest.”

“No way! That’s amazing!” Shiro truly believes it’s amazing. Keith must wake up crazy early to do that, and then to come here and work a full shift? Incredible. “How do you even manage that?”

Keith shrugs. He looks a little flustered at the praise, maybe a little uncomfortable, and Shiro almost apologizes but is beaten to speaking when Keith says, “I just do, I guess. Wake up, go out on the boat, come home to shower and change while the other guys do deliveries, and then come here a couple hours later. Sometimes I even get to make myself breakfast, which is nice.”

Shiro can’t help but smile. “I wish I could make more time in the mornings to make breakfast, but I already have to go to the gym before work, so I’m not sure I can wake up much earlier.”

“Why not just go after work?”

Shiro shrugs this time. “It’s too busy after. I like the peace of going early. Plus, it helps me wake up, and I can go on my days off, too.”

“You can’t go in the afternoon on your days off?” Keith asks, eyebrow and lips quirked.

“You underestimate how lazy I am on my days off.”

Keith grins. He’s absolutely lovely in a way Shiro rarely sees. He’s a little rough around the edges, and somehow both ruggedly handsome and otherworldly beautiful at the same time.

Enough time passes while Shiro is contemplating Keith’s beauty that it becomes a little awkward. Keith clears his throat and puts them back on task.

“So, anything look particularly good?”

Shiro immediately points out the salmon roulades, but adds forlornly, “I just don’t think I can justify the price when I’m cooking for one.”

Keith hums in thought, moving back and forth behind the counter while he thinks. Finally, he stops and points at something white.

“I actually recently tried a recipe for cod cakes. Way more budget-friendly than crab cakes and still really delicious.”

Shiro perks up. “Yeah? That sounds great!”

Keith rattles off a few things that Shiro will need to grab from the produce section and a couple of condiments, but he has some of the ingredients at home already and it sounds easy enough to do once Keith explains the process. He jots down a few notes so he won’t forget what Keith said, and now he’s eager to go home and try something new.

Keith picks out the best-looking filet for him and wraps it up, sticking the price label to it and handing it over with another small smile. Shiro lets his fingers brush Keith’s when he takes it, hoping it looks like he’s done it by accident. Even though Keith is wearing gloves, Shiro has to suppress goosebumps at the contact.

Man, he needs to get out more.

“Let me know how it works out,” Keith says, and Shiro gets the sense that he actually wants to know.

“I will,” Shiro promises. He’s loathe to leave the pretty boy with the gorgeous eyes, but he can’t stand around and monopolize his time all day, so after a few stops around the store, he’s ready to go home and try out his new recipe.

It turns out better than expected, and Shiro pats himself on the back. Since he’s moved out by himself and been forced to watch his budget, his cooking has drastically improved. He takes a picture to show Keith next time he goes back before digging in, and it’s so tasty he makes a mental note to put this one into the rotation. Hell, maybe he can even make it for a date sometime, though at the moment the only people he has any interest in dating are Keith and maybe whoever runs the KosmoTheWolfDog account. For access to Kosmo, obviously.

Before he gets into bed later that night, he makes sure to check Kosmo’s Instagram. There’s a new pic of Kosmo cuddling with a stuffed hippo, and it’s so cute Shiro might cry.

___________________

“Back again so soon?” Keith asks when Shiro walks up to his counter. He’s in the middle of weighing shrimp for another customer but still takes a moment to smile at Shiro before returning to his work.

It wouldn’t be _that_ stupid to ask him out, would it?

“Yeah, I actually wanted to show you how the cod cakes turned out!”

Keith wraps and labels the shrimp and hands it to the woman on the other side. She looks between the two of them curiously and gives Keith a final smile and a “thanks” before moving on to the rest of her errands.

“Did you like it?”

“It was great,” he answers. “You saved me yet again.”

Keith grins. “Saved you from what?”

“From spending all of my money on takeout and gaining fifty pounds.”

Keith laughs like he was expecting that answer; he’s heard enough about Shiro’s habits since moving to a city that actually _has_ delivery.

Shiro pulls out his phone and angles it so that Keith can see. The first thing that pops up when he unlocks the screen is KosmoTheWolfDog, which Shiro had apparently forgotten to close out of earlier, and he silently thanks his lucky stars that it wasn’t porn. He swipes it away and brings up his photos (which again, thankfully, doesn’t reveal anything compromising) and brings up the picture he’d taken two nights before.

“See?” he says.

“That looks great!” Keith praises. He looks genuinely proud of him, and Shiro isn’t sure what it says about him that he’s glowing from the praise of the grocery store worker he buys fish from sometimes, but he’ll take it.

He beams. “Thanks, Keith. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Keith waves him off with a shy little smile. He might be blushing, but Shiro can’t be sure. “Give yourself more credit,” he says.

Shiro chuckles but has no response. They lapse into a brief silence.

“What was that you had up before?” Keith asks suddenly.

Shiro blinks before it registers. “Oh!” He pulls up Instagram again and navigates to KosmoTheWolfDog. “It’s just this dog that I follow. He’s _so cute_ , Keith, he’s the best boy in the whole world.” He quickly finds the picture with the stuffed hippo from the other night to show Keith. “See? He’s cuddling with a little hippo! Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Yeah, definitely the cutest,” Keith says. It takes Shiro a minute to shake himself out of his doggy-induced daze, but when he looks over at Keith, Keith is looking at him fondly. “So you like dogs, huh?”

“Yeah,” Shiro answers, once again locking his screen and putting his phone away. “I’ve always wanted one. And maybe a couple of cats. Or rabbits. I dunno, just any pets, really.”

“Apartment won’t let you have one?”

Shiro shrugs. “Nah, I can have them, I’d just feel bad moving them around from place to place. I always figured I’d get pets once I own my own place.”

Keith hums as another customer comes up to the counter. “Hang on for a sec, okay?” he says to Shiro before greeting his customer.

Shiro waits while the guy picks out a couple of pre-made salmon patties, a pound of shrimp, and two of the crab-stuffed salmon roulades Shiro has been coveting since the first time he saw them.

“My girlfriend’s in town this weekend,” the guy says, probably self-conscious from the way Shiro is longingly admiring his purchases. “She likes seafood.”

Keith just nods and continues packing his goods.

“Thanks, man,” the guy says. He basically sprints away from the counter and Shiro’s palpable envy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Keith asks, mirth coloring his words.

Shiro is too proud to admit that he’s pining over another man’s seafood, so without even thinking about it, he says, “It would be nice to have someone to cook for.”

That sounds even _worse_ , so of course his traitorous mouth keeps going.

“I mean, not that I’m desperate or anything! I just meant that I might be more motivated to cook if I ever had guests over. Not that I’m some kind of loser with no friends — not that people who don’t have friends are _losers_ , it’s perfectly okay to not have friends if that’s what you choose — but I haven’t chosen that. I mean, I _want_ friends, I just haven’t lived here that long, and—”

“ _Shiro_.”

Shiro snaps his mouth shut. Keith looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh at him.

“Shiro,” he says again, “I don’t think you’re a friendless loser desperate for love.”

Well, that’s a relief.

Shiro can’t help but laugh at himself. “Sorry,” he says. “I was trying to avoid telling you that I’m having serious fish-envy over that guy who just bought two roulades _and_ two salmon patties, but somehow I thought confiding my feelings of loneliness would make me seem less crazy.”

“You only sound a little crazy,” Keith teases. Even through his embarrassment, Shiro can’t help but feel pleased to have a beautiful boy teasing him. “So, did you actually want to get anything, or did you just come here to say hi?”

Shiro immediately feels himself flush. “Well, actually…” He trails off, sheepish, because of course he hadn’t actually planned on buying anything today. “I guess if I tell you I just came by to show you my dinner, that would definitely make me sound more than a little crazy, right?”

Keith blinks like he wasn’t expecting that answer at all — but of course, why would he? What kind of crazy person goes to the supermarket just to talk to an employee they only know from shopping at that supermarket?

“You came all the way here just to talk to me?”

“That’s weird, isn’t it?” It _is_ weird. He _knows_ it’s weird. “I’m sorry. It’s definitely weird to come bother you at work for something like this.”

“No, wait, no!” Keith says, eyes wide and earnest. “It’s not— I mean, okay, it’s a little weird.” Shiro flinches, and Keith is quick to correct himself. “I’m not like creeped out or anything, though! I think it’s actually, you know, kinda nice.”

It’s Shiro’s turn to blink, not sure he’s heard correctly. “Really?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Keith reaches up as if to play with his hair, but redirects when he realizes he’s wearing fishy gloves. “I mean, it’s always nice to see you. You’re nice.”

“I’m sure you have plenty of nice customers,” Shiro hedges, brushing off the compliment.

“Yeah, some. But most people don’t really talk, you know? Which is fine— I’m not working here because it’s a great place to make friends or something. But I, uh, like talking to you, I guess.”

Shiro can feel a smile coming on, a grin that threatens to break out if Keith keeps being cute and saying nice things. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Keith replies. Shiro thinks he can see a hint of the fondness he saw earlier. Keith glances somewhere off to the side — possibly at a clock, because he adds, “But I actually have work to do in the back. I can’t stay out here much longer if there aren’t customers.”

Shiro nods and tries not to visibly deflate. Keith does have a job to do, and Shiro is holding him up. But now that he knows that he’s welcome, he resolves to stop by more often when he comes to shop, even when he’s not buying seafood. It’s nice to feel wanted.

“I should probably get going, anyway,” he says. “But thank you, again, for the recommendation. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “See you later.”

___________________

KosmoTheWolfDog doesn’t usually tag his whereabouts, which Shiro understands, but sometimes Shiro can spot landmarks in the background. He’s figured out that Kosmo lives somewhere in or near his city, but because the outdoor photos are taken in so many different places, he hasn’t pinpointed even a general area. That’s probably by design — Kosmo’s Person has never shown their face or even made a video with their voice in it, and Shiro gets the impression that they’d rather not have dog-loving fans stalking them.

Of course, that doesn’t stop Shiro from jumping off of his couch when he spots a post from a nearby park. He can tell it’s the one near his house by the distinctive metal paper airplane statue. There are four paper airplane statues around the city, but this one is the only one on a riverbank. The river runs just half a mile from Shiro’s apartment and opens up where the fishing docks are located. The park is in the other direction, where the river is narrow and there’s a little extra land to put some benches along the walking path and some outdoor gym equipment.

It’s close enough that Shiro can’t pass up the opportunity to investigate. He can walk there quickly enough that if Kosmo has posted the photo in real time, he should still be there by the time Shiro arrives. He throws on a hoodie and some running shoes (because they’re the first pair he can find, not because he’s eager to sprint off an meet a dog, no, _of course not_ ) and sets off on a brisk walk.

It’s not extremely cold out, but it’s nippy enough that Shiro hopes he’s not out for no reason. His nose and ears have a tendency to get cold and turn pink even when the rest of him feels fine, and then they stay cold long after he gets back inside to the comfort of his heated apartment.

As he walks, he looks around to take in his surroundings. For how long he’s lived here, he doesn’t know his own immediate area well enough. He’s spent entire days off by himself exploring the city, but little time exploring the little community next to his own home. He doesn’t even know any of his neighbors, but the couple who work at his favorite Chinese place know him well enough to know which takeout bag is his when he walks in.

He passes a number of small restaurants that he failed to notice before. He’s not lacking for dining choices as is, but he tends to frequent the same three or four places every time he allows himself the indulgence of a restaurant rather than branch out. There’s also a music school, a dance studio, and bakery with the most delicious smells wafting onto the street and into Shiro’s heart.

Shiro makes a note to try the bakery first (maybe tomorrow morning before work, if he has enough time) and speeds up his pace as he catches sight of the sky. It’s grey out, which is normal for this time of year, but it’s not cold enough to snow, and he’s worried it’ll start raining on him soon.

By the time he reaches the park, a weak breeze has picked up. A glance around tells him that he’s too late; Kosmo is already gone, and judging by the sun shining in the photo that is nowhere to be seen now, probably posted the picture after the fact.

Shiro sighs and contemplates his sanity as he continues forward to take the long way home — he’s out now, might as well finish the loop so the outing isn’t totally wasted — wondering why it is he’s willing to go out to meet a strange dog but not follow through with any of the group meetups he always lurks online.

The long way back happens to circle him around close to the supermarket, so he stops in just to get a couple of essentials that he’s been meaning to restock anyway. He finds what he needs and makes a pit stop at the fish counter before checking out. When the clerk walks out from the back, it’s a floppy-haired guy with a serious expression and maybe a little bit of stick up his ass. He’s cute, in his own way, but not Keith-cute.

“Can I help you with anything?” the new guy asks.

Shiro wants to say no, that he’s just looking for Keith, and where he is? Doesn’t he normally work Sundays? But he knows enough to recognize when he’s about to sound like a stalker, so instead he says, “Just looking, thanks,” and walks off before the new guy can finish nodding.

___________________

He doesn’t see Keith for about two weeks. At first he’s worried that Keith’s gotten a new job and that Shiro will never get to see him again. He’s worried that he’s lost his chance, and that maybe he should have just taken the leap and asked Keith out when he was still here, even if it might have made him look a little sleazy. He could have picked another grocery store or simply stopped shopping in the fish department. He could have started coming on Keith’s days off so as to not make Keith uncomfortable. But this, to feel like he’d totally lost his chance at someone he was genuinely interested in, is worse than the rejection would have been.

He doesn’t realize he’s being entirely overdramatic until he hears two of Keith’s coworkers discussing it on the way to back to the stockroom.

“It’s not crazy busy or anything, but he’s the one who normally handles the stock, so I’m coming in early while he’s gone to cover for him,” the floppy-haired one from before says.

“Oh damn, that sucks,” says his companion. The floppy-haired guy shrugs.

“It’s whatever. He never takes time off, so I don’t really mind. Besides, it’ll be good for—”

The rest of the conversation is cut off when the Employees Only door swings shut behind them.

Shiro goes home and is ashamed to admit how much takeout he orders during Keith’s vacation.

A couple of times, he tries to track down Kosmo again. It’s a bit pathetic — okay, it’s a lot pathetic — to have so much free time and so little social life that he feels like searching for a famous internet dog is a worthwhile use of his days, but what can he say? He likes dogs, and without the distraction of his pretty fish boy, he’s a bit desperate. He doesn’t end up finding Kosmo, but he does get a chance to see some places in the city he might otherwise not have gone.

On the bright side, he does eventually find the motivation to give one of those group meetups a try. He finds a group for LGBTQIA+ people of all kinds and works up the courage to attend one Tuesday night. He meets a handful of really nice people, most notably a guy named Matt, his little sibling Pidge, and their friend Hunk. The older guy who runs the group is a bit eccentric but very friendly and welcoming, and Shiro wishes he’d started attending these meetups a lot sooner.

They meet twice a week, though most people only come on one day or the other. Shiro, who has no life, goes to both, because it’s the most socialization he’s had since moving here aside from his five-to-ten-minute conversations with the fish boy he’s hardcore crushing on. The second time he goes, he sees the floppy-haired kid from the grocery store who works with Keith and learns his name is James. James brings with him a nice girl named Ina, who, though a bit odd, is very chill and pretty easy to be around.

The third time he goes, he sits with Matt, Pidge, and Hunk, and they’re all introduced to two new members, Acxa and Veronica, who have both only recently begun identifying as bisexual and are looking for other people who started realizing their sexuality later in life.

Shiro can’t relate; he’s known he’s as gay as the sky is blue for as far back as he can remember, but it’s nice to see people becoming more comfortable with their feelings and finding the ability to express their inner truths.

They play games and share stories and do some cheesy icebreakers, and it’s nice to finally feel like he’s starting to have a place here, and maybe some people he can eventually learn to trust like his few friends back home.

The fourth time he goes is when things start to change. He feels pretty comfortable with some people already, but he hasn’t spent much time with Acxa, Veronica, or some of the members who come less frequently. Today, he’s getting to know James and Ina. They spend most of their time stuck to each other’s side, and although James seems pretty interested in interacting and also seems to be pretty familiar with most of the people there, he’s obviously reluctant to leave Ina’s side, and she’s obviously not the most comfortable starting up conversations.

She’s funny, in a super deadpan kind of way, which Shiro appreciates. James looks just as serious outside of work as he does at work, but Shiro quickly learns that he’s actually a really nice guy and that the stick he’d assumed was lodged in there is not a permanent fixture, and that just because he’s serious doesn’t mean he lacks a sense of humor. He appears to be one of only a few people who get Ina’s brand of humor, and it’s nice to see how comfortable they are around each other.

They’ve made it through the icebreaker and the introductions (which aren’t always necessary, but they do them when members show up who haven’t been introduced yet. Shiro has had to introduce himself four times already) when a latecomer straggles in. He doesn’t pay it much mind— some people aren’t able to get there right as the meetup starts, so there’s usually someone showing up late every time. He’s listening to Ina talk about her experiences in high school, thinking there might be something wrong with her because she’d never felt inclined toward relationships, until she confided in James in college, who did a little bit of research and helped her realize that she wasn’t alone in how she felt. It’s a touching story, and Shiro is totally engrossed, until he sees James waving toward the latecomer.

“Hey, Keith!”

Shiro wants to be embarrassed by how quickly he whips his head around to see, but any embarrassment he might have felt is completely overshadowed by excitement and anticipation when he sees The One And Only Keith approaching their little group.

Shiro’s heartbeat takes off at a sprint and he can practically feel his pupils dilate at the sight of him. He looks beautiful, casually devastating in a way Shiro has never gotten to see before because he’s always in his uniform at work. As cute as that is, he looks much more comfortable in his own skin with his leather jacket, skinny jeans, and bright red Converse.

The smile Keith shoots him almost knocks him flat on his back. He thinks he feels James reach out to steady him, but maybe he’s just being dramatic again.

“Hey guys,” Keith says, cool as anything.

“How was your trip?” James asks.

Keith pulls up a chair and plops into it backwards so that he can drape his arms over the backrest.

“Good. It’s been a while since I got to see my mom’s family, so that was nice. I needed it.”

“Where did you say they live?” Ina asks. Apparently, Keith is someone with whom she feels comfortable.

“The Netherlands. But they wanted to see California, so I flew out to meet them.”

“They must be tall,” Ina remarks.

Keith grins. “They are. People always stare when I’m with my mom and uncles. Dad always said being around them was the only time in his life he ever felt short.”

“I can’t imagine how you must feel,” James ribs.

Keith squawks. “We’re the same height, asshole!”

James just shrugs. “Six feet isn’t that tall when your uncles are all like six-foot-seven.”

Shiro can feel himself gaping, but he can’t help it. “Are they seriously that tall?”

“Just Antok,” Keith explains. “But yeah, the others are all around six-five or -six.” Then, with a smirk that makes Shiro’s body temperature rise, he adds, “You’d fit right in, I’m sure.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he says, not sure how to take the remark. He shoots a look toward James, who very much looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Leif,” James calls — it’s his nickname for Ina, Shiro has noticed, and no one else in the group calls her that — “How tall do you figure Shiro is?”

She gives him a once-over and then says, with unnerving confidence, “Just under six-foot-four. I’d guess by a doctor’s measurements, about six-three-and-a-half.”

Shiro gapes again. James does laugh this time.

“How did she do that?!”

“It’s one of her many gifts,” Keith explains. There’s a smile playing on his lips, too, just the barest hint, and Shiro wishes he could taste it. “It’s also James’ favorite party trick.”

Ina isn’t the most visibly expressive person, but Shiro can still tell that she’s pleased with herself.

The meetup ends way too soon. James, Keith, and Ina catch the same bus, which is odd since Shiro had assumed Keith lived near him. He wonders for a minute if he’s misread all of his previous interactions with Keith, but even looking at it objectively, he hasn’t discerned anything romantic between the two of them.

As he’s leaving, the Holt siblings catch him and invite him to a party for the upcoming weekend.

“It’s a potluck!” Pidge exclaims. Matt grins, seemingly just as excited, though Shiro can’t figure why any two people would be so excited about hosting a potluck.

“Bring something homemade,” Matt says. “We can always tell store-bought.”

“Sure,” Shiro chuckles. “Homemade. You got it.”

___________________

Homemade isn’t a problem, in _theory_ , until Shiro finds himself the morning of the party with nothing prepared, no food in the house, no recipes on which to fall back (because, honestly, this whole cooking thing is a pretty new development in Shiro’s life, and he’s never had to cook for a crowd before), and very little time to get anything done.

It’s desperation that drives him to the store straight from his morning run. He stinks and he knows it, but he’s praying that his own stench will be masked by the fish counter, which is where his feet automatically carry him every time he shops now.

It must be too early for Keith’s shift; Shiro never comes this early, and he knows Keith has a little bit of time between his fisherman gig and his job here, but he’d been kind of banking on Keith to help him out in the recipe department.

Shiro doesn’t recognize the person behind the counter. It’s not James, either, so he can’t even beg for help from another friendly face. He sighs and rubs a thumb against his temple; he feelings the beginnings of a tension headache coming on, time-crunch stress mingling with anxiety from the idea of sharing his home cooking with a group of people he would very much like to not poison. He doesn’t have much of a choice but to look toward the internet for advice. It’s not his favorite idea, but it’s all he has left.

He takes a seat at what passes for a cafe area inside the store, orders a coffee drink from the bored, solitary barista, and sets about his task. There are some recipes that sound delicious — deep fried pickles, deep fried eggplant, deep fried macaroni and cheese (he saves that one for later) — but he’s not sure he’s ready to try deep frying just yet, and also cringes at the idea of his beautiful crispy treasures going soft and soggy during the travel across town.

Some recipes seem like way too much work (dips with ten or more ingredients to prep) or not enough work (“caprese skewers” that essentially amount to a cherry tomato, a basil leaf, and a mini mozzarella ball on a toothpick), while others don’t allow for the portability he needs. As he scrolls through endless recipes and pictures of mouthwatering foods, he wonders what everyone else will be bringing and who else is coming.

Surely, Keith is going? He’s seen Keith act very friendly toward Matt, Pidge, and Hunk (who is apparently co-hosting the event and is the one enforcing the no-store-bought rule), so surely he’s been invited. The party starts late enough that he should be off shift by that time. He hadn’t actually gotten to _ask_ Keith since he’d only been invited after Keith had already gone, but he _must_ be going.

Which means whatever Shiro makes, it has to be perfect.

He had intended to do a dry run beforehand, test out whatever he was going to bring to make sure it was actually good, but time had gotten away from him, and now he has to just trust that his skills have improved enough that he can get away with winging it.

He finally finds a recipe that seems simple enough to work: steak bite crostini. All he needs is a crusty baguette, some thinly-sliced stead, and steak seasoning. The internet says that if he’s not sure about seasoning he should just buy Montreal Steak Seasoning, which works just fine for him because he truly _does not_ want to worry about it. He swings through the plasticware aisle and buys two large Tupperware containers for good measure, then takes everything home.

There are things he needs to get done today before he can work on this task. He has to take his rent check to his landlord in person (because apparently his landlord lives in the ‘90s), fold and put away his laundry that he’s been ignoring for almost two weeks, and clean the kitchen to at least a usable level.

First on the list is to shower and deliver the check, because above all else he doesn’t want to be homeless (or more realistically pay a late fee for turning in his check past the deadline). Naturally, he’s already _in_ the shower when he remembers that he’s also out of shampoo, so he has to get back out, redress, and take another trip to the store to get shampoo. It’s a chunk of time he hadn’t intended to waste, especially since it’s in the opposite direction of the bus he needs to take to get to the landlord’s drop box. He would just mail the damn thing, but he’d put it off for too long and no longer has that option for this month.

When he gets home he’s an hour behind schedule and decides to just screw the shower until it’s closer to time to leave, because at this rates he’s going to break a sweat cleaning up his apartment anyway.

He makes up a little bit of time on the kitchen, which isn’t as bad as it had looked on the surface, but falls behind again when he finds a load of clothes in the dryer that he had forgotten about. He’s cutting it way too close when he _finally_ finishes his chores and can start prepping his steak. He takes out everything he needs, including the cast iron grill pan he’d gotten from Adam several years ago and never used, and begins to preheat that on the stove while he slices and seasons the steak.

One of the major draws of this recipe is that the steak cooks _very_ quickly, and before long he’s gotten them all seared on both sides, and the “test piece” he tried is really tasty and flavorful — not bad at all, if he does say so himself. The last thing left to do is slice the baguette and pack everything away; he does so, packing one Tupperware full of meat and the other with the sliced baguette into a bag, along with a jar of Dijon mustard and a bottle of barbecue sauce (because there are two kinds of people in this world).

There are barely a few minutes left to spare, and he still stinks to high hell, so he dashes to the shower to try again, this time with all of the necessary soaps and grooming products. He still has shampoo in his hair when he hears the shrill shriek of the fire alarm.

_Oh, shit._

Shiro doesn’t even bother to rinse out his hair; he just grabs a towel to wrap around his waist and bolts to the kitchen, anxiety growing at the sight of smoke filling the hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen. He’s quick but cautious as he moves to investigate, and though there are no actual flames, there’s smoke _everywhere_. It stings to keep his eyes open. He’s not even sure where the smoke is coming from, because he had already finished cooking. Worried it might be something faulty with his electric stovetop, he doesn’t take any chances and goes straight outside.

He’s lucky it’s warm out, because he forgets he’s in a towel with shampoo in his hair until he’s in his parking lot surrounded by what he assumes are his neighbors.

“Is that your apartment?” one of them, a younger guy who looks like he might be in college, asks.

Shiro grimaces. “Yeah.”

“Dude. What did you do?”

Shiro just shrugs, helpless. He really doesn’t know. “I mean, nothing’s on fire...” he justifies. “At least, I don’t think.”

A middle-aged woman comes up to join the conversation with the very helpful comment, “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire!” It sounds like something that might be written on a poster, though for what, Shiro doesn’t have the energy to guess. He just wishes he had thought to put on some clothes to watch his apartment potentially burn down.

Someone must have called the fire department, because he’s pretty sure the smoke alarms aren’t actually hooked up to notify them, and three minutes later a fire engine is pulling into the complex’s parking lot, and Shiro watches as three fully-equipped firefighters rush into his building.

There’s a good chance this would be the lowest moment of his life, but then he sees a familiar face that he can’t help but chase down.

“Kosmo!”

The best boy, in the fur, _right there in his parking lot_ , whips his head toward Shiro at the sound of his name. He cocks his head in that adorable, confused way that dogs do and waits for Shiro to approach.

Shiro doesn’t have eyes for anyone but Kosmo. It’s Kosmo! The Wolf Dog! And he’s _so cute_! He makes his way over while Kosmo waits patiently ( _What a good boy!_ ) and barely spares Kosmo’s human a second glance.

“Hi boy!” he greets, crouched down to Kosmo’s level, towel dangling dangerously from his hips. “I’m such a big fan!”

He’s about to reach out and pet him when he remembers his manners — you don’t pet someone’s dog without permission. He stands, slightly embarrassed but certain that the dog’s human has endured the same treatment several times, and is about to introduce himself when he catches sight of a very familiar pair of almost-purple eyes filled with mirth.

“Big fan, huh?” Keith teases.

All at once, Shiro becomes aware of the situation — he’s outside, in a towel, shampoo in his hair, cooing over a stranger’s dog that he wouldn’t have even met if he hadn’t tried to burn down his apartment — and feels his face light up.

“Um. Can I pet your dog?” he asks stupidly, because what else is there to say?

Keith laughs, full and loud, causing Kosmo to perk his ears up and bark in response. They’re fucking adorable, the both of them.

“Yeah, Shiro. You can pet my dog.”

Shiro does; Kosmo is obviously used to being loved, because he immediately begins panting happily, tongue lolling all over the place, before rolling over and exposing his big fuzzy belly for rubs, which Shiro happily gives.

“I can’t believe what a big puppy you are,” Shiro tells Kosmo. “Such a good boy, such a big fuzzy boy!”

Kosmo honest-to-god smiles at him.

His belly rub session is interrupted by a firefighter tapping him on his bare shoulder. “You can go back in now,” she says, shooting him an unamused look. “Make sure you turn off your stove when you’re finished cooking next time.” Behind her, Shiro sees another firefighter holding the charred remains of his cast iron grill pan in his big, fireproof glove.

“Oh,” he says dumbly. “Yeah, I will.”

The parking lot clears out pretty quickly once people realize there’s no more excitement to witness and their apartments aren’t actually going to burn down. Keith stays with Shiro and waits for the fire engine to leave before walking him back to his door.

“I thought you said you could cook,” Keith says. Although the delivery is deadpan, Shiro knows him well enough now to recognize when he’s teasing. Still, his pride is wounded for several reasons.

“I _can_ ,” he protests. “The steak crostini are gonna taste _great_ at the party tonight, just you wait and see.”

Keith gapes. “You tried to burn your apartment down for some _party food_? For the Holts’ party? _Why_?”

The expression Shiro makes _feels_ very judgmental when he responds, “Because we’re all supposed to bring homemade party food?” Duh, Keith.

Keith’s lips roll between his teeth; he’s obviously holding back his laughter, though Shiro can’t for the life of him figure out why.

“What?” Shiro demands. He was just doing what was asked of him. Why is that so funny?

“Nothing,” Keith says. “It’ll be nice to have some home-cooked food there. Right next to the massive bag of Cheetos and the giant vat of jungle juice.”

“The— what?”

Keith ducks and shakes his head. “Can I come in?” It’s a pointless question, as they’re both already walking through the door, but Shiro nods anyway and closes the door behind the two of them and Kosmo. “Go finish your shower and get dressed. I’ll fill you in when you’re decent.”

For the first time since this whole crazy debacle started, he finds some modesty. “Sorry,” he tells Keith. “For the, uh, partial nudity.”

The way Keith looks him up and down can only be described as appraising, and _oh_ , okay, so maybe Keith really _is_ into him. He tries not to preen even as he feels another telling blush creep up his neck, cheeks, and ears.

“No problem,” Keith smirks. “Now go, before it gets too late.”

Shiro _finally_ finishes his shower (third time’s the charm!) and quickly locates his go-to first date outfit — his Good Ass Jeans and a plaid button-up that brings out his eyes. Keith is in the kitchen when Shiro re-emerges, wiping down the counters and stovetop.

“You don’t need to clean my kitchen,” Shiro says.

“Someone does,” Keith retorts. He finishes wiping the stove and washes his hands before he turns around. Shiro waits; it’s oddly charming how domestic it feels to see Keith puttering around in his kitchen. When Keith does turn around, he appraises Shiro again. “You look really good.”

Shiro grins. “Thanks, so do you.”

“Shiro, I’m literally wearing a t-shirt and jeans.”

“And you look amazing,” Shiro maintains. “You’ll be the most attractive person in the room, as usual.”

Shiro feels no small amount of pleasure at the way Keith’s flushes at the compliment.

“Wow,” Keith breathes. “Thanks.”

Kosmo trots in from another room where Shiro assumes he was exploring all of the new smells in his house. Which reminds him—

“Why didn’t you tell me Kosmo was your dog? I know you know I follow his Instagram.”

Keith’s smile is a little wicked and a little shy when he says, “I just wanted to make sure you liked me for me, not just my dog.”

Shiro feels a pang of sympathy — Keith is amazing, but people are shitty, and he wouldn’t put it past some asshole guy to use him for his awesome dog — and reaches out to lay a hand on Keith’s elbow.

“Of course I like you,” Shiro says. He lets his thumb graze Keith’s soft skin and takes a step closer.

This close, Keith has to look up at him a little to make eye contact. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shiro soothes. “You’re beautiful, and kind, and fun to talk to and— hey wait, how are you here?!”

Keith reels back but doesn’t break their contact. “What?”

“You don’t live here?” It comes out like a question, though Shiro is _sure_ he saw Keith take the bus with James at their last meetup.

“I— yes?” Keith answers, obviously bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve literally _never_ seen you here, or Kosmo, and trust me, I would know if I had.”

Keith continues to stare.

“Plus, when we were leaving the other day, and you went with James and Ina...” He trails off as Keith continues to stare.

Finally, after a beat of confused silence, Keith says, “Oh!” He pulls closer to Shiro again, back to where they were before, and Shiro’s heart warms. “James was watching Kosmo while I was on vacation. I couldn’t take him with me on the plane because he’s too big.”

So, okay, that explains that. “But how have I never seen you around here before?”

Keith shrugs. “I take him out really early, usually before and after my first shift, so most people aren’t even awake by then. I don’t know why you’ve never seen us in the afternoons. To be fair, I’ve never seen you, either. What do you even do all day?” It’s said teasingly, and he scoots a little closer, all but closing the distance between them.

“I don’t get out much,” Shiro bashfully admits. “Especially on days that I work. Though I did check out lots of new places while you were gone.” He leaves out the fact that he was stalking Keith’s dog. He’ll save that piece of info for later in the relationship — maybe their wedding.

“Well,” Keith says, bringing up a hand to rest on Shiro’s chest. “Maybe we should try to get you out more, then. Together.”

Shiro’s heart begins to race. “That sounds a lot like you’re asking me out.”

“Maybe I am.” The hand on his chest drifts up and over his shoulder, resting gently on his neck. Keith’s other hand, the one Shiro is still caressing with his thumb, comes up to hold Shiro’s hip. Shiro reciprocates the touches, using his unoccupied hand to pull Keith closer by the small of his back.

“Okay,” he easily agrees. “I’ll go wherever you want me to go.”

The corner of Keith’s lips turn up in an enticing smirk. Shiro can taste the anticipation. “That’s dangerous.”

“ _You’re_ dangerous,” Shiro retorts.

Keith’s face tilts a little closer. “Good one.”

They’re so close now, Shiro can feel Keith’s breath over his lips. “We’re so late to this dumb party,” he whispers. Keith hums his acknowledgement. “I made steak crostini for this dumb party.” He can practically feel Keith’s smile widen now.

“You got tricked into cooking for this dumb party,” Keith teases. “They do it to all the new people. Usually it doesn’t result in apartment fires, though.”

“Shut up,” Shiro murmurs, and then he makes him.

___________________

They walk into the party nearly two hours late, hand-in-hand, and everybody compliments the crostini.


End file.
